The Murders on Poppy Hill
by sanibels
Summary: [AU] What started as a simple party quickly turns bleak when a murder occurs. A detective-in-training, you hop on the opportunity to solve the case; but as penguin after penguin winds up dead, it may seem a hard mystery to crack. [T for gore, language and occasional suggestive themes]


**The Murders on Poppy Hill  
by sanibels**

** Chapter One  
Ms. Arctic Poppy**

_What an honor,_ you can't help but think as you approach the giant, gorgeous house on Poppy Hill. _I only just started working for her and already Ms. Arctic Poppy has invited me to her party. _You had heard you were one of only ten to be invited. How exclusive; how _elite._ Never did you feel so high-class. You're simply a salespenguin at her little imported goods shop; you've only been working there a week. And even then, you hadn't socialized much with her nor her business partner. You spent the majority of your free time at work doing what you did with _any _of your free time - training yourself with the hopes of someday becoming a detective. You enjoyed reading the crime stories in old issues of the newspaper, learning to guess the solution before you actually read it. You had a library at home of all the different crime and mystery books you had collected over the years. The sort of thing exhilarates you; there must be such a thrill, you figure, about arriving on the crime scene, looking for clues, piecing the stories together. All the heated interrogations and interviews with calm bartenders and lowly townsfolk. You long to live that sort of lifestyle. But for now, you figure, your best outlet for that opportunity was working for the head publisher of the town's newspaper. You knew she was allies with the town's existing detective, a Mr. H. P. Bear, and his assistant. Maybe someday you should tell her about your passion, and she would hire you as a detective, and you could work alongside him.

You had adorned your best formal wear to make a good impression, and as you walk through the threshold of the grand front doors, you feel right at home. Ms. Arctic is chatting away with her business partner in the front foyer, in front of a tall twisting staircase. The blue penguin she's speaking with has big, thick glasses. You recognize him from spending time at the goods shop. Arctic is the first one to notice you walk in, and she directs her friend's attention to your arrival as well. The two waddle over to you with big smiles.

"Oh, I'm so happy you could make it!" Ms. Arctic Poppy exclaims cheerily, vigorously shaking your flipper. You smile back, timid. "I know you only just started working for me, but you're such a joy to have around that I figured it would liven things up to have you at this party."

"Thank you very much for the invite," you reply. "It means a lot to me."

"Have we formally met?" asks her business partner, in an English accent. "My name is Garreth, but Gary is fine too. It's a pleasure."

You shake his flipper as well, and smile even wider. "It's nice to know you properly."

"You look great, by the way," adds Ms. Arctic. "You must have dressed up for the occasion?"

Your cheeks warm a bit. She noticed. Bashfully, you nod.

"There are drinks and hors d'oeuvres in the kitchen, and otherwise a few guests have already arrived and are mingling in the den," Gary explains, pointing as he speaks to each of the different rooms. "Arctic and I will join you shortly, a few guests still have yet to arrive and we want to be here to greet them."

"I understand," you express. "I'll go meet some of the other guests." The two friends resume their conversation as you waddle off towards the kitchen.

The kitchen, just like every other room in the house, is large and gorgeous. The preparation area is complete with an island - off of which you grab a rum & coke as you pass by - and is to your right when you enter the room from the front foyer. Towards the back of the room sits a breakfast table, in front of a big glass door leading to the balcony. Behind the house is a gorgeous lake. On either side of the breakfast table is a doorway out of the room; to the right, a grand dining room with a long, beautiful mahogany table, and to the left is the den; a small room complete with a fireplace, lots of corduroy seating and a few bookshelves. Lamplight highlights the bodies inside. As you approach, a few heads turn to you. Some are clearly confused, some - though you don't know them - seem happy to see you, and there are a few that pay you no attention. It's an older, gray penguin with a long white beard that approaches you first. He tells you, in slightly broken English and an Asian accent, that his name is Sensei Willow, and that he runs the local plant shop and is a practicing meditationist. You smile back, introduce yourself and shake his flipper.

Next is a much younger, green penguin, perhaps even younger than yourself. He seems just as excited as you are to be here. He introduces himself as Reid, the rookie field reporter for the newspaper. For whatever reason, he decides to add that he was hired for his poetry on "weird subjects". Looking him over, you can't help but think that his idea of formal wear _is _a little odd, but nonetheless, you tell him it's a pleasure to meet him. Suddenly, he gently but firmly grabs your right arm, and leads you a couple of steps to a larger, gruffer-looking red penguin, who's speaking quite passionately towards a purple penguin with blonde hair. Said purple penguin is standing arm-in-arm with a peach penguin, whose own hair is quite extravagantly colored. The rookie tugs on the arm of the red penguin to catch his attention, and the group of three turn towards you. The rookie introduces you. You smile, caught a bit off guard by all of this.

The red penguin introduces himself, in a very authoritative tone, as a Mr. Jared Paul Gerard. You're about to make a lighthearted comment about the fanciness of such a name when he informs you that he _dislikes _being called by only one or two of those names. _He is to be called by all three, or you can abbreviate them to J.P.G. _You get the message, and decide against making the joke. He explains his position as a field reporter for the newspaper, and begins to go on a bit of a tangent about his passion for interviewing and learning the full of the stories he's assigned to cover. He's quite intimidating to interact with - though, you note, he _is_ the best-dressed one here.

The purple penguin he had previously been speaking to butts in and tells him to be quiet, and for a moment you fear for her wellbeing, but surprisingly he answers her with a huff and waddles off towards the kitchen. The rookie follows him.

The purple penguin apologizes for J.P.G.'s actions before introducing herself as Dorothy, or Dot, the lead undercover field reporter and a minor editor for the paper. Her smile is bright and clean, and you can't help but feel warm in her presence. The peach penguin on Dot's arm speaks up, telling you her name is Cadence, a local multimedia musician and Dot's girlfriend. You tell her you'd love to hear some of her music, and she agrees to play some later once everyone arrives. Dot compliments her partner's work, and the two start to banter flirtily about the other's abilities, so you decide to leave them be. You're just about to head out to the front foyer again to watch newcomers arrive when in walks an _incredibly _jolly orange penguin, who embraces Cadence in a seemingly strong bear hug. Both she and Dot chuckle, and Dot points to you, saying something with a smile which you can't make out.

The big orange penguin approaches you and exclaims, "So! You're Arctic's new hire I've been hearing about!"

As he looms over you, all you're able to squeak is, "How do you know about me?" You quickly realize how rude that may sound, but he doesn't blink at it.

He laughs heartily. "A.P. and I go out for coffee twice a week after my construction shift ends! She's been talking lots about you this week. Says you gots' potential."

You chuckle nervously, flattered. It comes as a surprise to you that Ms. Arctic has been talking about you to her friends. The orange penguin interrupts your train of thought.

"Pardon me, I should'a properly introduced myself," he beams. "Rory's m' name, and construction is m' game. It's a pleasure." His handshake is strong and proud, and you aren't sure it'll ever end, until Jared Paul Gerard comes back into the room and Rory notices him. Rory seems to forget all about you in that moment. He lets go of your hand and rushes over to J.P.G., picking up the red penguin in another bear hug. J.P.G. clearly struggles against the orange penguin's embrace, and the crowd surrounding the two laughs playfully. You laugh along. The sight of the whole scene can't help but make you smile to yourself; these guys seem like such a close family. You feel so honored and touched that you're becoming a part of it. You take a moment to finish your drink.

"Oy, let the grump go, ya ruffian," teases another new voice, though as you catch a glimpse of the penguin in possession of the voice, you recognize her. It's Paige, or P.H., as she prefers, the imports and communications manager at the same shop where you work. She's wearing a beautiful silk zebra print dress, with a boa of - she specifies, in her smooth Australian accent - faux fur. Surprisingly, you're the first one in the room that her eyes drift to, and she hurriedly comes over to greet you. She introduces herself, but you mention that you recognize her, and she laughs in a friendly manner.

It's just then that Ms. Arctic Poppy comes into the room and announces that everyone has arrived and the festivities can properly begin.

"Where's G? Out there talking to his boyfriend?" jokes P.H. Dot, J.P.G., Rory and even Arctic all chuckle.

Ms. Arctic clears her throat. "Yes, he and Rockhopper are having a conversation. I'm sure they'll join us quickly."

"If they don't sneak off to make out instead," says J.P.G. under his breath. Dot snorts.

"Seriously, when will one of them just step up and ask out the other?" adds Dot. "It's clear they're all about each other but both are too in their own heads to make a move."

"Tell me about it," agrees the rookie, but you get the feeling maybe he's talking about something else. He glances towards J.P.G.

"That's _enough,_" Arctic exclaims, though you know by her tone that she's really not too upset. "Cadence, if you would be so kind as to provide us with some music?"

Cadence only nods, and heads back into the front foyer, before turning down a hallway that renders her out of your sight. Arctic and a few others follow her right away. You figure the party must be shifting rooms, so you join the group. As you pass through the front foyer, you happen across Gary, who, sure enough, is speaking with a sturdy red penguin, that seems to tower over the prior. He has a magnificent black beard. His clothes throw you off a bit, though; the first thing that comes to mind is "pirate". Ms. Arctic gets the attention of the two, and Gary seems caught off guard, but the pair resume their conversation as they follow the group.

The party lands in a rather large, beautiful ballroom, complete with a stage across the room from the entrance where four penguins whom you haven't yet met have already prepared to play. How luxurious; Ms. Arctic really hired a band. On either side of the doorway into the ballroom, several long tables have been set up with even more hors d'oeuvres and drinks, and the tables lean against the sides of two tall staircases which lead to a balcony, overlooking the ballroom, where several sofas and tables sit. Cadence finds her way up onto the stage and sits down at the piano bench, and starts to play. The music she plays is beautiful. It comes as a surprise to you that you've never heard her perform before, because she's clearly quite talented, and, you believe, ought to be quite popular. The group gathers at the base of the stage, listening intently to the peach penguin play her symphony. Even the four penguins already onstage sit back and let the sound envelop them. As she finishes, a loud cheer erupts, and you join in, clapping with all your might and hollering joyously. After a minute of work, the piano has been moved towards the back of the stage, Cadence steps down onto the ballroom floor and the other four penguins assume their positions on their respective instruments.

"I'm Franky! I'm on trumpet," calls the yellow one in front.

"My name is Peter K., and I play the French horn," announces the green one to the left.

"They call me Jazzy Bob, and I rock the trombone," yells the red one to the right.

"I'm Mr. G. Billy," shouts the blue one in the back, "I'm on tuba! This is the Penguin Brass Quartet!"

Franky gives a four-count, and the quartet starts to play a very upbeat song. Before you know it, the party has properly begun. A group heads up the stairs to the seating area, a couple of penguins go to the snack tables, and the rest dance. You grab another rum & coke and start up the left staircase yourself. As you reach the top, you're met with Gary, Rockhopper and P.H., all invested in the same conversation.

"Mind if I join you guys?" you inquire.

"Ah, yes, of course," Gary replies. "In fact, it may be good to have you up here. We're discussing the business of the goods shop thus far in the year."

You nod, and sit down on the couch against the balcony railing, next to Rockhopper. At first, you attempt to listen to the conversation, but it starts to bore you, and as you kick back you find your gaze drifting down to the penguins dancing. You start to stare at Ms. Arctic.

You're lost in thought when Gary asks you, "What do you think?"

It takes a moment for you to register that he was speaking to you. You're snapped out of your trance, and whip your body around quite abruptly. "I'm sorry," you admit, "I wasn't quite listening. I was thinking about Ms. Arctic."

"It was quite sweet of her to throw this party," says P.H. "It feels like ages since we've all been able to get together and hang out again, especially without worrying about work. I miss you guys. You're the only mates I really have."

"Aye," Rockhopper agrees. "I be out at sea so much I hardly get to see any of ye anymore. I wouldn't miss this for the world. And besides that, the lass knows how to throw a _damn _good party."

Gary nods. "She's a wonderful woman. I'm very lucky to know her the way I do. I'd be quite lost without her," he adds.

"I'm honored to be working for her. I've only known her for a week and already I feel so included in this little family you guys have," you gush. Gary smiles at you.

"You've been a delight to get to know," he tells you. You smile back.

"I'm proposing a toast, mates," P.H. announces, lifting her glass. "To Arctic Poppy."

"To Arctic Poppy!" You lift your glass, clink it against the glasses of your three colleagues, and down what remains of your drink.

"Who wants refills?" you ask. The penguins around you all voice approval, and you take their glasses and start down the stairs.

As you get new drinks, you can't help but feel lucky to be where you are. You glance over at the dance floor, where Dot and Cadence dance cheek-to-cheek, and Rory is busting a move all on his own as the rookie looks on, awestruck. Sitting peacefully on one of the steps to the stage is Willow, and it's clear he's fully engulfed in the music. You give a little nod of acknowledgement to J.P.G., who's leaning against the drink table watching the scene, and he returns the gesture. You watch as Ms. Arctic starts towards the staircase, a huge smile across her beak. You start back up the stairs, and she beats you up; as you reach halfway, she's pulling Gary by the flipper back down the stairs to dance with her. He grabs his drink from your grasp and tips it cheerfully to you as you pass him by.

The clock strikes 9 p.m.

* * *

The clock has just struck 11 p.m.

You've been dancing for nearly an hour, and the band, you note, is still playing with just as much passion as they were at the start of the night. As a slow song starts, you pay attention to the penguins coupling up; Dot and Cadence are together, of course. The rookie seems to have convinced Jared Paul Gerard to dance with him, and is clearly enjoying it a lot. Gary is dancing with Rockhopper and blushing like a fool. Rory, Arctic and P.H. are all gathered around the snack tables chatting. You look around, and notice that Willow is still just sitting on the steps of the stage. You approach him.

"Want to dance with me?" you ask him, extending a flipper. He chuckles, but takes your flipper nonetheless and lets you lead him to the dance floor.

As you start to slow dance together, he playfully asks you, "Are you hitting on me?" It's clear by his tone that he's just joking.

You reply with an equally playful tone. "Nope," you laugh, "Just thought maybe you'd like someone to dance with."

His gentle smile widens a bit. "I appreciate it."

The time is 11:06 p.m.

* * *

The clock has just struck 1 a.m.

You, along with the rest of the group, have become quite drunk. You've all been playing poker for maybe twenty minutes, but already things have gone south and Rockhopper has bet his left boot. You don't remember laughing this hard in your entire life.

As Rockhopper bets his right boot, Gary exclaims, "I'm going to win this round, I just know it." Another laugh erupts from your throat, along with the throats of the majority of the rest of the party.

The time is 1:23 a.m.

* * *

The clock has just struck 3 a.m.

It's clear Ms. Arctic is more than just a little tipsy as she tells this ridiculous story about a broach, five crabs and a lobster. This story is almost as ridiculous as Willow's story about his experience with a nudist colony, or P.H.'s story about a polka-dotted puffle that she encountered in the wild.

Now Ms. Arctic is mentioning the crab in the fridge for lunch tomorrow. Gary reasons that a single crab can't feed eleven penguins, and Rockhopper replies with, "I've seen crabs big enough to feed a family of five."

Gary reiterates that there are _eleven penguins_ in your group, and Dot replies, "Then we'll only need three of Rockhopper's giant crabs!"

Your sides hurt as you laugh again, and you rack your brain for your own stupid story to tell.

The time is 3:37 a.m.

* * *

The clock has just struck 5 a.m.

You're passed out on the floor of the foyer.

* * *

You're startled awake by a shrill, horrible, banshee screech, and immediately your head begins to throb. Good God, that hangover is _heavy._ You take a moment to keep yourself from puking, and slowly, shakily, you stand up. What little knees you have are trembling violently.

As steadily as you can muster, you turn your head - oh, God, bad idea; another spike of pain shoots through your brain - and see Gary in the kitchen, standing seemingly _mortified _at something. From where you stand, you can't see what it is. Did _he _scream like that? You're pretty sure it worsened your hangover tenfold. You shuffle towards him, but he doesn't even acknowledge your consciousness. However, as you finally catch sight of what has him so upset, your own body starts to shake in horror too. You lower your head and throw up on the floor, but it doesn't matter to you; it's not nearly as bad as what he's looking at.

Lying on the floor of the kitchen is Ms. Arctic Poppy. Her neck has been slit, and there her body rests in a pool of her own blood.


End file.
